


Kiss To Remember

by Kyra_Bane



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Community: mission_insane, Drunken Kissing, First Kiss, First Time, M/M, Oops, Stupid Boys, alcohol related amnesia, also i love natasha romanoff, because that always ends well, party at stark's house, some cliches, that may show
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-12
Updated: 2014-10-02
Packaged: 2018-02-17 04:05:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,878
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2295965
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kyra_Bane/pseuds/Kyra_Bane
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clint wakes up the morning after a party at Stark's house with the memory that he kissed someone - but he's not quite sure who that someone is. Phil wakes up knowing exactly what he did.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Clint doesn't even remember it that well the next morning – which is absolutely a testament to just how drunk he was the night before. He wakes with the sandpaper mouth, pounding head and fuzzy memory of the well and truly hungover and, when he brings himself to lift his head from the pillow, is genuinely surprised to see that there is no one beside him. He frowns at the empty side of the bed, though the effort becomes too much too quickly and he drops his head back to the pillow again.

For a while, Clint lays still, trying to focus on his breathing and curb his rolling stomach, dismissing any and all thoughts that involve moving – even if that means he'll have to do without a glass of water, or painkillers. Instead, he flips through the few memories that stand out from the night before. He remembers arriving at Tony's with Natasha, already halfway to drunk and far too excited; having what felt, at the time, like a really _deep_ discussion with Steve (but which in the light of day makes Clint groan, because it's kind of embarrassing and it's not like Steve _gets drunk_ ); trying to keep up shot to shot with Thor-

And, somewhere in the middle of all that, and the lights, and the music, he remembers _the kiss_.

Clint frowns a little, but the pounding in his head intensifies, so he lets out a pitiful groan instead. He remembers sensation, alright. He remembers his back pressed up against the wall and a hand on the back of his neck and slow, deep kisses with just enough tongue to make them a little bit dirty. The problem is, Clint considers, squinting as he thinks about it, he doesn't remember who it was doing the kissing. Or being kissed. Whatever.

He pushes himself up into a sitting position, ignoring the various protests his body sends his way – he's in no real danger of hurling now, at least. There've been worse hangovers, anyway, but never such a mystery to solve. Clint knows, without a doubt, he's going to do whatever it takes to solve this. Those lips aren't escaping him, not a chance.

First, Clint looks to his bathroom door. Shower. He'll shower, first, then the investigation can start.

***

Somewhere across town, at nine o'clock sharp, Phil wakes, and sits bolt upright as all his memories from the night before assault him, in all their clarity.

Well, _fuck_.

***

Clint finds Nat at the gym. She always does this after a night of drinking – not that Clint's ever seen her drunk – and Clint hates her for it, because just looking at her on a treadmill is making his insides reconsider whether he does actually need that slice of toast to remain in his stomach. He groans and leans his head on the machine, staring up at her dolefully.

She mutters something in Russian that he doesn't quite catch, but then she's slowing the machine anyway and he lifts his head.

"You look good," he says.

"Well, you look like hell enough for both of us," she replies. She takes a drink of her water. "You think drinking with Thor was such a good idea?"

Clint groans again. Nat smirks. She finishes her cool down in silence and then hops off the machine when she's done, eyeing him critically. "I'll meet you out front in fifteen," she says, and then turns on her heel and vanishes in the direction of the changing rooms.

Clint wanders out to the front of the building, loitering against some railings. He tries to think, to remember more – but the only thing he can really recall are the feeling of lips against his – and that's not helping.

He doesn't spill anything to Nat until they're sitting in a café fifteen minutes later, but then he gets the feeling that she already knew. "I kissed someone," he says.

She takes a sip of her drink and waits. Clint sighs. "I kissed someone, and I don't remember who it was."

At this, Nat smiles. He suspects she's only holding in her laughter because he looks so damn pathetic as it is. "You don't remember?"

"I just said-"

She _does_ laugh at that and Clint scowls. "Do _you_ know who it was?"

Nat doesn't answer that. Instead, she says, "I'll help you work out who it was, if you like."

Clint knows she knows. And she knows he knows she knows, judging by that glint in her eye. However, Clint _also_ knows that if she's got that glint in her eye, she's amused and she isn't giving that up any time soon. He sighs, long and loudly.

"Fine," he says.

Nat leans back in her seat. "Alright," she says, "So let's start with people – who was at the party?"

"Uh, you, me, Tony, Steve, Thor…"

"That's all you can remember?"

Clint shrugs.

"We'll start there, then," Nat says. "Me?"

He frowns at that. "I know it wasn't you."

She doesn't even dispute it; it's never been off the table, not completely, but Clint is also about ninety percent sure that he kissed a guy, so there's that.

"Tony?"

"I don't think I'd let Tony push me up against a wall," Clint muses, "Plus, there's no way I'd have woken up alone if it was Stark."

Nat snickers in agreement. "Steve?" she asks a moment later.

Clint frowns at that one. He does remember his weird conversation with Steve after all; and though Steve's just an all-round nice guy, he could have been doing more than simply humouring a friend.

Noticing his hesitation, Nat nods. "Alright, we'll keep Steve in for now. Thor?"

Clint laughs at that one. "Yeah, I don't think so. Aside from his and Jane's inter-planetary love story, I think the guy would have pushed me _through_ the wall, not against it."

Nat grins at that, like she can imagine it too. "Looks like it was Steve, then," she says a moment later, finishing the dregs of her coffee.

Clint shakes his head. "Nah, can't be."

"Well, you can't remember anyone else being at the party – so who else could it have been?"

Clint looks at her helplessly. "Please tell me I did not-" He glances around, his voice hushed as he carries on- " _Make out_ with _Captain America_ at Stark's party last night?!" He's pretty sure that it probably wasn't Steve, but there's a tiny part of him that is reminding him he can get pretty slutty when he's very drunk – and that Steve might be nice enough to try and make him feel better about it and-

"Clint, don't be an idiot," Nat says instead. "From what it sounds like, this wasn't _you_ drunkenly kissing anyone so much as it was _someone else_ drunkenly kissing you – and there were more people at the party. Still, you could have made out with Steve. I don't know."

Clint narrows his eyes at her. She knows. He's sure of it.

***

By midday, despite the fact that today is Phil's scheduled day off and this time last week he had already mentally planned out what he wanted to do with it, he finds himself in his office, at a loss as to what to do. His paperwork is (mostly) finished – but he doesn't want to look through it again.

Truth is, he can't stop thinking about Barton.

He hadn't meant to do it. Stark had called him an hour before, clearly drunk, shouting down the phone about how he was missing out on an important Avengers bonding session and wouldn't Fury be oh-so-furious with him?

(Stark had laughed at himself for about a minute after saying it – and it was that, more than anything, that had made Phil drive over, because if Stark was laughing like that, then he was well on his way to alcohol poisoning.)

Of course, when he'd arrived, everyone but Steve, Romanoff and Pepper was drunk (Bruce was nowhere to be seen) and Pepper had pushed a drink into his hand anyway, because while she wasn't drunk, she was well on her way to tipsy.

Sometime after that, Phil had come across Barton, in some ridiculous corridor. And maybe he was a little more drunk than not, but Barton had looked so damn happy to see him, and was standing so close, and-

Phil had pushed him back against the wall and claimed his mouth before he'd even really thought about it. There was no need for thinking after that, because _how could he think_ , especially when he'd got Barton's tongue in his mouth, those clever hands finding their way under his shirt and up his back, pulling him closer-

A noise at the end of the corridor had snapped him out of it. He'd pulled back and Clint had blinked at him owlishly before Phil had choked out something that sounded like, "Sorry," and walked off.

Now, he's not sure what to do. Avoiding Barton is perhaps a little extreme, but Phil doesn't really want to approach this situation – a situation where, professionally, he is completely at fault. Barton had been much drunker; and Phil was his superior-

Phil groans and puts his head in his hands just as a knock comes at his door. "Come in," he mutters, managing what feels more like a grimace than a smile for the agent before him. She smiles back, unperturbed.

"Sir, Director Fury told me to come to you. We need Agent Barton on a mission operating out of Mexico this week. Our sniper's managed to break an arm."

Phil raises an eyebrow. This might solve his confrontation problem for a little while.


	2. Chapter 2

Clint is not happy with this turn of events.

Not the mission in Mexico. He quite likes Mexico, all things considered, and on paper, this mission wasn't supposed to be anything too strenuous – which is handy, because he's spent the past week wracking his brain, trying to figure out why Coulson told him about it without looking him in the eye and all but threw the file at him as he ushered him out of the door.

No, in theory, the mission is not the problem.

In practice, however, he and Agent Scott are currently chained up to a pipe in the midst of what looks like a pretty big drugs op; so Clint isn't happy. Not one bit.

Agent Scott is handling it well, Clint thinks; she's young, but fierce, and they've been down here a couple of days now without her showing signs of breaking – so that's one thing. She seems smart enough to be thinking of a way out of here too, which is another.

Occasionally, the guys unchain them – usually to beat the crap out of Clint, a bit – but they don't seem all that interested in their purpose there; they've spent the last two days trying to pack up as much of their operation as possible, most likely unaware that backup will show any day now. These aren't the big boys; they don't know how SHIELD operates. Clint's sure they've been moved to a place that he and the team didn't have under surveillance, but they shouldn't be too hard to find.

Salvation comes on the fourth day, just as a tiny little shadow of doubt is beginning to cloud in the back of Clint's mind. Agent Scott – Rita – lets out a quiet noise of relief when they hear gunfire; which Clint thinks maybe is premature, because it might just be another gang, but then he sees someone wearing the right clothes and moving in the right way and lets out his own sigh, his head falling back to rest against the pipe. He can feel a dull ache starting to spread through his body and hopes the medic gets here soon.

The area is secured fast, though Clint thinks maybe he dozes in and out a little, the adrenalin ebbing out of his system, because suddenly _Coulson_ is there and he looks kind of pissed.

"Hey boss," Clint says. The words feel thick in his mouth and he turns his head, sees he's hooked up to an IV already. They'd been given water, but Clint figures they were probably dehydrated – still, there's gotta be something else in that thing.

"What were you _thinking_ going in there?" Coulson says quietly; and Clint would think that there's a note of panic in his voice if not for that fact it's not evident on his face – that and, Coulson never panics. It's his job to not panic, especially not when Clint or Nat get themselves into trouble. Panic is for lesser mortals, after all.

"Scott got captured," Clint says, but the words are hard to get to now; each one seems to take an almost physical effort. "Others were too far – couldn't let 'em-"

" _Damnit,_ Clint," Coulson mutters, and Clint feels like he wasn't supposed to hear that, not really. Coulson looks up and past him then and Clint feels that he's being moved, presumably into an ambulance. "I'll see you in medical," Coulson says before they take him – and then, all Clint wants to do is sleep, anyway.

 

***

 

He wakes sometime later, opening his eyes to see Natasha sitting in a chair, watching him.

She doesn't look pleased, which brings back the memory of Phil's annoyance and then – oh, _there it is_ – there's a dull pulse of pain against the back of his head and – he shifts – against his ribs. Nat crosses her legs and then sighs, passing him a glass of water. He takes it and drinks gratefully, and when he's finished, she puts it back on the nightstand.

"What were you thinking, Clint?" Nat asks a minute later.

Clint sighs. "Agent Scott – _Rita_ – was in trouble. Everyone was in trouble. I tried to get her out, but one of them blindsided me."

Nat doesn't say anything, but Clint's pretty sure she understands. They remain silent for a few minutes more, before Nat puts her hands on her knees and stands up. "You've got four bruised ribs, as well as a concussion, but you look better than after the last run in with HYDRA. You'll be up and about in no time." She offers him a brief smile. It's enough for Clint to know he's forgiven for his rash actions – and it's enough to know that she's telling the truth, he'll be fine soon. The handful of times they haven't been sure, she hasn't smiled like that. She might be one of the greatest spies to have ever lived, but Clint can see the truth when he looks at her.

"Can I get out tomorrow?" he asks her back as she opens the door.

"Forty-eight hours minimum, Clint," she replies. She turns her head. "And the good nurses are on and they've told Coulson, so it's not even worth a try."

Clint tries not to sulk for the rest of the day, but it's difficult. Coulson doesn't show, not once.

 

***

 

There's a few hours of relief, in the form of Agent 'I-didn't-get-my-ass-repeatedly-handed-to-me-so-I-have-no-injuries' Scott turning up in his room and entertaining him with Fury's various facial expressions as she tried to explain the situation to him. Apparently he isn't happy, which just about makes the whole lot of them, Clint thinks.

She leaves by nightfall though, so it's just Clint and his thoughts. Bored by the pain, and the niggling reminder that at some point, he has to write a report about all this, he tries instead to focus on the only mystery he had before Mexico, which is, of course – _the kiss._

He settles back in the bed and thinks about the party again. He remembers Nat, and Stark and Steve and Thor. Pepper was probably there too – he thinks he can maybe remember her pressing a drink into his hand at some point.

The problem is, Clint thinks, none of those people fit. Not really. He thinks they're all pretty attractive and, hey, he's not exactly picky anyway – but there's just something _missing_.

He falls into a fitful sleep, the answer no closer than it was the week before.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Super sorry about how long it's taken me to get this second part up! I've spent the last three weeks moving abroad, training for my new job, etc., wifi has been spotty - and I just forgot! Hopefully I'll be a little quicker on the final part though ;)


	3. Chapter 3

Nat drops Clint's laptop by the next day and he plays games after she leaves right up until early afternoon. He thinks about his report after that and writes it slowly (though no more carefully than usual), pleased to see that it takes him through until early evening. Clint smiles to himself, until he realises that this means he hasn't seen Coulson all day.

A frown crosses his face. This is very, _very_ unlike Coulson, to the point where Clint feels a spark of worry in his chest. He knows nothing has happened – there's not a chance that he'd still be in here, that he wouldn't know, if it had. Nat would have told him, if nothing else.

But Coulson's never not been here before. Truthfully, Clint was expecting his face when he first woke up, not Natasha's. He attaches the report to an email anyway, debating the merit of adding a message before he sends it – but in the end, he decides against it. He usually sends something, even if it's just a winky face, but maybe it'll be better if he stays quiet for a while. Coulson is clearly still annoyed at him. He'll have to fix it tomorrow, once he's out.

 

***

 

In his office, Phil looks up when his inbox pings an alert. He's a little embarrassed to notice that his heart speeds up a little when he sees it's from Clint –  _don't think about it_ , he reminds himself. Still, he knows what the email is. Clint's report. He opens it, readying himself to also read Clint's complaints about medical, about the nurses-

Huh. Phil frowns at the blank message, noting distantly that the report is attached. He doesn't open that. Instead, he stares at the screen for a long time, feeling his heart slowly sink.

Phil isn't stupid. He's an agent and he knows people well. He knows Clint  _well_ .

He knows, with a sudden certainty, that he's well and truly fucked this all up.

 

***

 

Nat comes to get Clint the next day, looking a little more irritable than usual. “You alright?” Clint asks her as he signs the forms.

She shrugs, but doesn't reply. Clint hands the forms back to the nurse and turns to look at her.

“What's happened?”

“Nothing that concerns you,” Nat replies, almost snippily.

“Something at the tower?”

Nat sighs. “No.”

“Me? Because you seemed okay with me yesterday-”

“It's not you, Clint.”

Clint frowns, wracking his brain for who else could have pissed Nat off. He thinks of Coulson, but then dismisses that thought almost immediately. Coulson's pissed at Clint – and yeah, so Nat isn't, but a differing of opinion wouldn't have her hackles up like this. Clint sighs and gives up. “Fine,” he says. “Let's get out of here.”

Nat nods and the two of them leave medical, wandering down the corridor to the elevators. Halfway down the corridor, Nat stops. “Go ahead,” she says, “The car's out front.” She passes him the keys. “I forgot to pick something up in there.”

Clint shrugs and puts the keys in his pocket, hitting the button and waiting for the lift. Nat seems... weird today, he thinks. A little out of it, he'd think, if he didn't know any better. He thinks about all of them, over the last week or so. There's been some weird stuff going on.

The elevator arrives and Clint settles himself in against the back corner, listening to the quiet music, letting it wash over him. Coulson hasn't emailed him back about his report, though Clint has seen that he's opened it, so he figures it must be fine. He'll be called back on a mission at some point, he and Coulson will work together and this strange stuff will be over-

The elevator stops and Clint glances at the floor number. Not his, so he settles back in his corner as the doors open – and Coulson steps on.

They exchange slightly bewildered looks for a moment, but Coulson must come to some kind of decision because he steps further in, the doors closing behind him. There's an awkward silence as the elevator begins to move again. Clint finds himself looking away, not sure what to do.

“How are you feeling?” Coulson asks suddenly, quietly, though in this small of a space it doesn't matter.

Clint glances up into tired eyes. He opens his mouth to reply and the elevator judders suddenly, the power cutting as it comes to a stop. Clint lets out a shaky breath. “I was going to say fine, but then we got trapped in an elevator, so-”

Coulson laughs a little. Clint can still see him – and he sees Coulson look away, raising a hand to the back of his neck like he's embarrassed.

A voice crackles over the speaker. “Not sure what's happened over here,” someone says. “We'll have you out of there soon.”

Coulson sighs. “Sure they will,” he says, but it sounds like he's mostly saying it to himself.

Clint feels his lips twist a little at the thought that brings. Does Coulson even care that he's back up and about again? He sighs and shuffles a little before he asks, “Why didn't you come to medical?”

Coulson looks like a deer caught in headlights at that. He blinks a couple of times, then clears his throat, trying to regain some composure. “Romanoff told me she was going, to visit and to bring your laptop. I thought my presence might be... unnecessary.”

“Unnecessary?” Clint says, a little harsher than he intended. “You're always there, Coulson, _always_. What did I do-”

Coulson's eyes are vibrant in the darkness and he cuts Clint off before he even finishes, “It's not about what  _you_ did.” He takes a breath and some part of Clint realises that they're closer than they were before, though he doesn't remember moving.

“What did you do then?” he asks, the question hanging heavy in the air.

Coulson looks up and away, letting out a heavy sigh. “It's not something- I'm sorry, Clint. I shouldn't have-”

Clint takes one dangerous step closer. “What did you do, Coulson? Because you seem like you're feeling pretty guilty and I can't think that there's anything you could've done to me you'd be feeling guilty about-”

Clint's brain finally catches up at the same moment that Coulson reaches out with both hands and pulls Clint into a messy, demanding kiss. He pushes Clint up against the elevator wall and kisses him with all the determination and skill that Clint's seen him use a thousand other times, in a thousand other situations. When Coulson pulls back, Clint's panting, but he still has enough sense of mind to cover Coulson's hands with his own, to keep them breathing the same air.

“It was _you_ ,” Clint says, his voice full of wonder.

Coulson grimaces but Clint shakes his head, hooking his leg around Coulson's to pull him back in again. “Coulson, I-”

“I shouldn't have done it. You were drunk and as your superior, I shouldn't-”

Clint finds the best way of shutting Coulson up is by using his mouth. They kiss again and this time Clint reaches for the back of Coulson's neck, pulling him closer. Coulson retaliates by pressing his fingers into Clint's hips, pressing him back against the wall. He ends the kiss, gently biting Clint's lower lip, then proceeds to let his lips trail along Clint's jaw and down his neck. Clint makes a small noise in this throat, murmuring, “Coulson...”

Those lips trail up and Clint feels warm air brush his ear. “I think you could call me Phil, considering the circumstances.”

Clint turns his head to look Phil in the eye and smirks, liking the way he sees Phil's pupils dilate. “Alright, Phil,” he says, doing some manoeuvring of his own, so now Phil is pressed back against the wall and Clint is the one plundering his mouth.

Phil rocks his hips forwards and they both gasp at the contact, Clint pulling on Phil's suit jacket to get them impossibly closer, Phil securing one hand on Clint's jaw, the other on his hip. They could be dancing together, Clint thinks, they move as well together as they work together on everything else – but every press of pelvis to pelvis has sparks shooting up Clint's spine and he gasps his moans into Phil's mouth.

“I want to take you home and take you apart,” Phil mutters finally and Clint moans again, moving his mouth to attack Phil's neck. They're still pressed up against each other – Clint is rock hard in his pants and this feels _so good_ – and they haven't got long, out of necessity more than anything else. “I want to see the expression on your face when I first take your cock into my mouth,” Phil continues. Clint stutters in the rhythm a little, but his fingers grip Phil tighter and he pushes up again. “I want to take you apart with my fingers and my mouth, and, _ah_ -”

Clint licks over the red mark he's just left, the bruise he knows will arrive by morning. He gives Phil a cocky smirk, but the breathlessness in his voice gives him away. “All of that,” he says. “I want all of it.”

Phil kisses him again, somehow a little sweeter and yet still dirty and as they move against each other again Clint tries to keep the kiss going, but it's difficult, and it becomes more lips aimlessly moving and breathing each other's air than it does anything else.

“God, Phil, I'm gonna-”

“Me too, Clint, come on-” He takes Clint's lips in a kiss again, as demanding as the first and Clint's fingers tighten on Phil's shoulders as he comes, stuttering out a moan as he does. Phil is still moving though, so Clint lets out a shaky breath and moves with him, feeling Phil's whole body tense and then release as he comes, too.

They stand together for a moment, clinging to each other, breathing. Clint presses his lips to Phil's again and is glad when they catch, when Phil's hand curls around his jaw to hold him in place. They pull apart and Phil seems bashful but he's still smiling.

“I can't believe it was you,” Clint says. He pauses. “I'm really glad it was.”

Phil lets out a little chuckle. “I thought you remembered. I thought you'd hate me for taking advantage.”

Clint rolls his eyes. “I was drunk, not dead. If I didn't want to kiss you, Phil, you wouldn't have got close.”

Phil kisses him again then, Clint supposes because he can, but as their lips touch the elevator shudders to life around them and they pull, reluctantly, apart.

“Sorry about the delay,” the speaker says. “Got it all up and running again.”

Phil grumbles something under his breath that Clint doesn't quite catch, but he grins anyway, because he can. “Are you on your lunch break?” he asks.

Phil nods. Clint brushes their hands together. “I've still got the rest of the day off,” he says, “Medical leave. So if it's okay with you, I'm gonna go and hang around your apartment so you can spend the rest of the day perfecting exactly  _how_ you're gonna take me apart.”

Phil's eyes cut to Clint; he's blushing, a little, but he's taking the challenge. “Alright,” he replies. “I'll be in at six. You think you can keep your hands to yourself until then?”

“'Til six? Sure.”

Clint flashes Phil his most winning grin and presses a kiss to his cheek seconds before the doors open and they step out into the lobby. Phil doesn't look as rumpled as Clint thought he might, though he straightens his collar and tie before they round the corner. They step out into the sunlight and Clint grins again. “See you at six,” he says.

“Six,” Phil repeats.

They turn in opposite directions and Clint vanishes into the crowd.

 

***

 

Natasha sits back in her chair and smirks. The man to her right, a tech guy she vaguely recognises, frowns at the screen. He doesn't quite believe what he's just seen.

“You will say nothing about what you've seen today,” Nat says. She thinks, then adds, “And you'll delete all the footage, _now_.”

The tech looks at her and sees the steel in her eyes. He gulps and his fingers dance over the keyboard. When he's done, she smirks again. The look turns serious when he glances back at her.

“If I find out _anyone_ has seen that, or knows what happened, I will personally come up here and make sure you never see anything incriminating about anyone ever again. Do you understand?”

The tech gulps again and nods quickly. Nat flashes him her best smile.

“Good,” she says, before she gets up and leaves the room.

She's impressed with the outcome – she'd expected some kissing, yeah, if only to let off some steam, but it seems that Phil isn't as straight-laced as he likes to maintain.

She sighs suddenly, realising something. Clint has her keys. She gets into the elevator and presses the button. Time to break into her own car. Again.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Birthday to me! I thought you all probably deserved this last part ;)
> 
> I am doing this for the mission insane challenge as well, so the prompt for chapter two was: espionage - danger, and chapter three: plot? what plot? - in the elevator/lift
> 
> Like you hadn't all guess that last one, ofc ;D

**Author's Note:**

> End of the first chapter, yay! The second one is a little shorter. I used prompts from the mission_insane comm for all the chapters of this fic, so the first one is from the cliche table (#10, drunken kiss).


End file.
